


Days Like This

by Princess_Aleera



Series: Stark Spangled Hawks [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: #coulsonlives, Alpha!Jane, Alpha!Steve, Alpha!Tony, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Asexual Relationship, Asgard ain't got no A/B/O, Beta!Coulson, Beta!Pepper, Coming Out, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Omega!Happy, Omega!Hulk, Porn, Scents & Smells, Sharing, Shovel Talk, Team Dynamics, Threesome - M/M/M, alpha!bruce, asexual!Coulson, everything/nothing!Natasha, omega!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:06:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Aleera/pseuds/Princess_Aleera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where there is a shovel talk,  cuddle permissions, a black eye, and the occasional nightmare.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Or, a look at Steve, Tony and Clint's relationship - and the team - outside of heats.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The hideously unoriginal title is taken from the Van Morrison song. (My working title was 'I Got You Under My Smell', so really, we can all agree that titles are not my strongest suit.)
> 
> This is partially a sequel to Citrus and Woolen Blankets, and partially a companion piece. It's the second installment in what I fear will be a !verse, and will mostly constitute of smaller moments - not only between the three boys, but within the Avengers team as well.
> 
> Chapter warnings: Hulk and Bruce are considered two separate entities sharing one body in this story, and Hulk is also considered a sexual being. There is no Hulk sex, but the issue of Bruce/Hulk is addressed in the first chapter. Also not really a warning, but worth a note; Clint and Phil initiate a non-sexual relationship partway into the story, with explicit permission from Clint's partners.

Coulson – Phil, now – stays in Medical for a week and a half longer before Tony gets his way. Tony's pretty talented at being insufferable when he wants to be (not that this is a secret, really), and right now, he wants Phil out of HQ and into Avengers Tower. Clint spends hours every day in Phil's room, hovering, trying – and failing – not to look like a worried mother hen. Steve comes with him, when Clint wants and Steve's got time, and slowly, Phil gets slightly less twitchy around his childhood hero.

Tony? He mostly spends his time around HQ, annoying nurses and agents and everyone who might report back to Fury and let him know that they want Agent Coulson off base _yesterday_ , because his guests are making everyone crazy.

He gets his way two weeks after they first learn of Phil's survival.

“Don't think Fury didn't know what you were doing,” Phil says when they help him move into the Tower, three floors beneath Steve, Tony and Clint's apartment – between Natasha's and Avengers floor.

“Don't think I care as long as it worked,” Tony chirps, stepping into the apartment first of all of them. “JARVIS, lights!”

The living room brightens, and the four of them look around what's now Phil's new apartment. Clint had given design input, and instead of the chrome-like look of Tony's place, this place is all warm, wooden shades and colorful, mismatching rugs. Phil's got his own mini library, home office, and an inside garden aside from all the usual stuff.

“You like?” Tony says, and tries hard not to bounce on the balls of his feet. Phil stands between Steve and Clint, the latter with a hand on the agent's arm just in case.

“How – how did you do this so fast, Tony? You didn't even know I was _alive_ until two weeks ago,” Phil huffs, but he's impressed, Tony just knows it.

“Fourteen days? That's more than enough for me to work my magic.” Tony shrugs and looks around the brightly lit room. “Plus, you know, I'd already given all the Avengers a floor, and you were always a part of the team, even when you were dead. So this was always yours.” He shrugs.

Phil's eyes grow fond. “Thank you, Tony.”

He shrugs again, before moving onto more fun stuff. “Oh my god, you're gonna love your _bed_ , Phil. After Medical for months, try this – seriously, you're gonna love it, you're gonna love _me_ -” and he drags Phil into the master bedroom, careful with him, while Tony's Alpha and Omega follow with similar, indulgent smiles on their faces. Like Tony's being a total kid. Which _no_ , he's just – he just likes showing off, okay? Yeah, let's go with that.

“That is pretty impressive,” Steve says when they're all inside the bedroom. “You've even got, um.” He stares, a little awkwardly, at the wall entirely dedicated to Captain America's colours, several posters and a great, painted shield covering the wall.

“Clint,” Phil sighs.

“Hey, wasn't me, sir,” Clint chirps and looks all kinds of pleased with his handler's reaction. He helps Phil sit on the bed and Tony tells him about JARVIS, just in case Phil forgot after all those months being comatose – about food delivery and calling systems and that basically, any time he needs anything, tell JARVIS or Tony or Clint or all of them.

Phil already looks worn and fatigued, so they leave him in peace for now. Tony can see – and smell – how Clint's relaxing, knowing that his handler and friend is nearby and safe. Tony hasn't forgotten that before he showed up, it was Phil who had taken care of Clint, for years. That's not something Tony will forget any time soon.

~*~

_“Bruce! My sweet angelface,” Tony says and plops down on the chair next to the scientist._

_Bruce gives him one of those not-sure-if smiles. “Your nicknames are turning exceedingly more creative. What do you need from me?”_

_“Nothing!” Tony says and blinks faux-innocently. “Why would you think that? Like I only come down here to_ ask _you for things. Maybe I just want to cuddle. You_ are _my science bro, after all.”_

_Bruce's smiles turns indulgent. “I would think Clint would be your first bet if that were the case.”_

_Tony blinks at that, losing his initial trail of thought. “Clint?”_

_“Mhm,” the scientist says and glances down at one of his numerous petri dishes on the desk, carefully organized and labeled. “You're bonding, aren't you?”_

_Tony pushes down on the Alpha part of him that wants to puff up and make him say_ and what if we are? _. Bruce is an Alpha, fair enough, but they all know he's not a threat. Plus, Tony's kind of making an extra effort not to be a dick to Bruce, seeing as the world tends to be. “Well, yeah, but – but we haven't, yet. How'd you notice?”_

_Bruce takes off his glasses and starts cleaning them on his sleeve. “You smell different. Between my Alpha instincts and the, uh, Other Guy's sensitive nose, not much gets past us, really.” He looks apologetic. “I'm sorry if it's a private thing. I didn't mean to pry. I haven't told anyone else.”_

_“No no, it's fine,” Tony says and flings an arm around the guy's shoulders. Bruce is starting to get that Alone look in his eyes again and Tony hates that. He's not going to be the cause of it. “It's good, Bruciebear, just caught me by surprise, is all.” Some tenseness in Bruce's shoulders bleed out, and Tony pats himself mentally on the back._

_“The Other Guy, he's...” and Bruce's sentence turns into a bout of chuckles, not nearly as humorous as Tony would like them to be._

_“What about the Big Guy?” Tony says, still half-hugging the other man, and frowns._

_“He's a little disappointed,” Bruce says, lips quirked. “He has a, uh, fond spot for you, I guess.”_

_Tony grins and ignores the pang of sympathy in his chest. “Well, obviously. I'm awesome.”_

_“Of course,” Bruce says, too warmly to be completely deadpan. He puts his glasses down on the desk between the petri dishes, and rubs the palm of his hand over his eyes._

_“Hey,” Tony says, nudging the scientist with his shoulder. “How are_ you _doing, Banner?”_

 _“Much the same as always, I guess,” Bruce says and puts his glasses back on. His eyes are rubbed red and makes him look older, more tired than he is._ Alone _, he doesn't say, and Tony doesn't reply with another clever quip. Just nods and squeezes the good doctor. Bruce's eyes are far away, like he gets sometimes – mostly when he thinks about Betty Ross. Tony's never met the Omega in person, but he's read some of her dissertations and heard stories from both Bruce and Jane, and she seems pretty cool._

 _Tony wishes there was a quick-fix solution to Bruce and the Big Guy; wishes it was something a pill or a good bout of talking could solve. In a way, the Big Guy is Bruce's perfect other part; they're biologically and mentally compatible, as well as – obviously – physically sharing the same space. According to Doctor Ross's notes on Bruce's transformation, which Tony had dug up from the vast depths of the Internet after the Big Guy had saved his life in the battle of New York, that was probably intentional. At least from the serum's side. Instead of enhancing everything already there, like it had did with – to – Steve, the serum-gamma combination enhanced everything Bruce was_ not _._

_Hulk is Bruce's opposite, and it's kind of a shame that the two of them can't just date each other. Tony's not sure how that would work out, but it would probably have solved some issues for the both of them._

_“So, doc,” Tony says when the silence has gone on for long enough, and it's high-time for a scientific distraction. “Tell me about your stunningly interesting experiment here.”_

__

~*~

There are a few run-of-the-mill missions, but none of them require the Avengers to assemble. Steve and Tony tend to end up on the same missions, because they can kick up a fair bit of mayhem just the two of them, and Tony works as a scout if Hawkeye is unavailable – since he can fly and all. Plus, even if the general world doesn't know it yet (though they speculate, by God do they speculate), SHIELD knows very well that Steve, Tony and Clint are bonded, and that Steve is one of the very few people Tony bothers to follow commands from. If a mission needs more fire-power, they'll bring in Thor, who's staying on Earth for now. Natasha and Clint get sent on different assignments, usually spy-work even though their covers are very, very blown after the Chitauri attack. Bruce works for SI and SHIELD as a sort of freelance scientist (and house doctor for the Avengers Tower, even though the guy keeps pointing out that he's never had any formal medical training or education), and they've only needed the Hulk a handful of times since last May. The only super-villain who's made an actual effort since Loki's plan face-planted is Dr. Doom, and it's generally acknowledged that unless he's _actually_ succeeding in bringing on the Apocalypse, that clusterfuck is for the Fantastic Four to deal with.

Phil is still on official leave, at least as far as SHIELD says, but like a true workaholic, the guy is already hanging out at his office at HQ several days out of the week. Tony makes a point of visiting the times they're both there, mostly to be a dick, but Phil doesn't seem nearly as annoyed with him as before he died and Tony doesn't quite know what to do with that. The guy is working up to his usual lack of flappability (shut up, it's totally a legit word, because Bruce – the big cheater – used it in Scrabble two weeks ago), back to his tailored suits and boring ties, and looks slightly less like he's about to keel over from a strong gust of wind these days.

So Tony hangs out. And okay, so maybe he's been making a _small_ effort to not be as obnoxious as before, seeing as the guy technically died for the team and he used to be Clint's Beta. And maybe Phil is the best handler in SHIELD for a reason and has sussed this out pretty much from the first time he met Tony after New York. It's still weird to be met in Phil's office with a bland, but genuine smile and a “Good afternoon, Stark, what can I help you with?” - like it's an actual question, and not a hidden _what did you do this time and no, I'm not going to fix it for you_. It's fucking weird. (And still Tony comes to hang out in Agent's office every few days. He's not looking too closely at that.)

“Nothing much,” Tony says this time and sprawls on the handler's couch. It smells, just barely, of Clint. “How's paper-pushing duty treating you?”

“I missed it, when I was confined to a hospital bed,” Phil says, one edge of his mouth quirking upwards, like he's telling Tony a secret. “Of course, now that I am back, I remember why I hate it.”

“What?” Tony says and slaps a hand in front of his mouth for dramatic value. “ _You_ hate paperwork? That's it; now I _know_ you're just a clone.”

Phil gives him a thin smile; one that used to mean _you are one wrong word away from getting tazered_ and now just seems to mean _ha-ha, very funny, Tony_. “Just because I understand how important it is, it does not mean I love it, Stark.”

“Tell me,” Tony says and leans back against the couch, folding his hands behind his head. “Have you ever _not_ done your homework? Like, just gone 'fuck this noise' and not submitted any report at _all_?”

Phil rolls his eyes, but doesn't answer. He's still wrapping up reports and writing while he talks to Tony, so presumably, Tony isn't actually inconveniencing him too much.

“Coooooulsoooon,” Tony wheedles. “This is important. Enquiring minds need to know whether you've ever been a _rebel_.”

Phil sighs, but his eyes are crinkling at the corners. “Once.”

Tony beams. “Really? You're not just saying that to make my day, are you?”

“Really, Mister Stark.”

“Oh my God, I gotta call the press,” Tony says and wriggles happily on the couch before leaning back. “Tell me, Agent. Tell me your shameful and sordid story.”

Phil smiles at Tony. It's one of the scary ones. “Never.”

~*~

_“I can smell you on him.”_

 _Tony startles. There are only a few people who can catch him off guard, especially in his_ own damn workshop _, but Natasha Romanoff is unequivocally one of them. The Iron Man part he's been working on hits the floor with a sharp, unimpressed_ clank _. “Jesus, Romanoff. Warn a guy.”_

_“Why would I do that?” she says and sounds honestly curious. She probably isn't, but Tony can't be sure; it's impossible to read her. He can't even smell her – none of them can. Tony doesn't know much about that, not more than JARVIS could find in SHIELD's archives, but something about Natasha's past – about the Red Room – has changed her on a biological level. Nobody knows what she is, Omega, Beta, Alpha, except maybe Clint or Fury. Tony isn't about to ask, but in situations like these, not being able to smell her mood is seriously disconcerting._

_“Right,” he says and turns around in his chair, remembering what she said. “Also, what do you mean you can smell me on him?”_

_“You're bonding,” Natasha says; doesn't bother to repeat herself. She's wearing her SHIELD suit, arms folded in a stance that looks relaxed rather than defensive, which is definitely deliberate. It sets Tony's teeth on edge._

_“Me and Clint?” he says, just in case they're on_ really _different pages here. Her expression – blank and smooth – doesn't change, and she doesn't say anything. “Yeah,” Tony says. “We are.”_

_“Second month?” she asks, but it's not a question._

_Tony nods anyway. Bonding is a slow-moving thing; from a biological perspective he gets it, but it's still frustrating how long it takes. “The bond is there as a reassurance, not a pair of handcuffs,” Pepper had once told him, back when they were still dating and Tony still shied away from anything remotely connected to bonds and long-term relationships. The bond is there for the Omega to know that when she, or he, becomes pregnant, their Alpha won't desert them to bring up the kid alone. For the Alpha, it's an assurance that said Omega is carrying_ their _child, and not some other mutt's. Nowadays, people mostly view bonding as a sign of trust and devotion – Tony and Clint are sure as hell not having a kid, that's for certain._

_He knows it can take anything from two to five months to complete a bond. Bruce had told Tony that when he'd asked. Tony and Clint are still in the preliminary stages, when their scents have just barely begun to change, adapt to the other's. It shouldn't be possible for anyone else to sense yet, unless they're a huge, green, sexually frustrated rage-monster._

_Natasha still hasn't said anything more, and the silence prickles on Tony's skin like a hundred small spider legs. “He's told you, right?” he asks. They haven't officially told the team or SHIELD yet, and Bruce found out on his own, but Tony assumed the archer would tell his best friend. (Tony hasn't told Rhodey or Pepper. Not yet. Pepper and him have only just stopped being weird around each other, now that she's fully bonded with Happy, and Rhodey... he'd probably laugh his ass off, Tony thinks. )_

_Natasha inclines her head, just barely. “He did. A month ago.”_

_As soon as they stopped going from fumbling talks to actually dating, then. Tony's glad Natasha has kept quiet until now; four weeks ago, he'd probably have headed for the hills if she gave him the Black Widow face. “So... what do you need from me?” Tony asks._

_Natasha shifts; a deliberate change of her stance. “I think you know,” she says, almost sweetly. It's deeply disturbing and Tony suppresses the urge to push his chair backwards, out of her reach. Which is ridiculous anyway, because she could kill him from the other side of the room without much of an effort._

_Tony looks her over again; takes in her blank face and somehow expectant body language, in addition to the almost suffocating feeling he's got that she's_ evaluating _him, and comes to a grim conclusion. “This is a shovel talk, isn't it.”_

_She smiles. It's small and sharp and it makes Tony twitch._

_“Look, I get it.” He puts his hands in his lap and doesn't quite meet her eyes. “I'm not good enough for Clint and you of all people know that, spying on me for all those months back when this one was giving out on me.” He taps his hidden arc reactor with a finger and sighs. “And believe me, we both know that I suck at relationships – you saw how I treated Pep those months and how that crashed and burned, and I know that was all on me. I know that.” He might sound bitter. He probably is._

_Natasha arches an eyebrow._

_“But see, here's the thing,” Tony says and looks her straight in the eyes now – no mean feat, if he'll say so himself. Because he's actually given this a lot of thought, and though he's not prepared to tell_ Clint _any of this yet, this is an interrogation and he might as well come clean right now._

 _“Clint? He doesn't think he's even good enough for_ me _. And me, I'm pretty much the bottom of the barrel, which means the guy's sense of self-worth is seriously fucking skewed.” He drags a hand through his slightly greasy hair and offers the assassin a thin smile. “So I'm thinking that if Clint's with me, at least he'll be with someone who knows how fucking amazing he is, and won't try to change him, or – or God knows what. There's some serious shit in that guy's past and I bet you know a whole lot more about that than I do,” and he watches Natasha's expression shutter subtly and nods. “Yeah, thought so. So here's my thing: I don't wanna change Clint. I can't promise that I'll be a great Alpha, or even a great boyfriend, because let's face it, I'm a total shit.” He smiles, and it's stiff and awkward. “But I'm gonna _try_ to be a good Alpha and a good boyfriend. Because Clint's already had his share of shitty Alphas, and I'm not about to join that blacklist, not even if I didn't know you'd cut off my balls for doing so. He deserves so much fucking better than that.”_

_Natasha watches him for another prickly, slow minute. Then her body language changes; no longer faux-casually relaxed, but closer to her default military-straight posture. She nods and another smile, smaller and more genuine, appears on her face._

_Tony can't help but grin back, his heart rate slowly calming down. “Does that mean I passed?”_

_She hums non-committally and walks away, hips swaying slightly. Tony doesn't look at her ass, because he knows she'd notice_ somehow _. When she's by the doorway, she turns. “Stark.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“I'll be watching you.” And then she_ winks _._

_Tony's still laughing in delight when she leaves. It takes him a good few hours to realize that during her entire shovel talk, she didn't say a single word._

~*~

When Tony returns from his workshop, working on another enhanced suit for Cap, the super-soldier is curled up on the couch with Clint. Steve is reading, and Clint is zapping disinterestedly through the 1,200 channels JARVIS provides them with. The Omega waves at him when Tony walks in, his hello swallowed by a huge yawn.

“Hey,” Steve says, and Tony bends down for a kiss from both his partners.

“Didn't hear you guys come back,” Tony says and flops onto the wide, deep couch next to them. Clint lets his head fall onto Tony's shoulder, sleepy but still too jittery to go sleep in the bedroom by himself. Tony knows Clint usually gets like this, post-mission; he can sleep whenever and wherever if he _has_ to, but when he's home and stepping out of his assassin mindset, he prefers to have either or both of his Alphas around. He'll probably fall asleep right here on the couch in a few minutes.

“JARVIS said you would probably be done soon,” Steve says with a disarming smile, like he's afraid Tony thinks they were avoiding him. “We decided to let you be.”

“Aww, honey,” Tony drawls, but burrows a little closer to the super-soldier, Clint by his side. The archer yawns again. “How much sleep have you gotten in the last couple of days, Barton?”

“Mmm,” Clint says and visibly shakes off some of his sleepiness. “Yeah, not much. Good to be back home.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs and puts down his book. The three of them doze – and Tony's half-convinced Steve's just waiting (like Tony) for Clint to fall asleep so he'll get some rest, but the archer stays awake. He stares at the TV, but doesn't seem to be actively following the documentary that's showing. It's about the development of the British pound, so Tony doesn't exactly blame him.

“Guys?” Clint eventually asks. He's not really tense, but he's not as relaxed as he could be either, and both Steve and Tony look at him.

“Yes?” Steve says.

“So I've got this... question, suggestion... thing,” Clint says, still staring at the screen. He's not pulling away, but he _is_ getting tenser, his smell spiking with worry, and Tony pointedly rests his chin on the Omega's chest.

“Lay it on us, Robin.”

“Batman's side-kick, or Robin of Sherwood?” Clint says, momentarily distracted from his own thoughts, a slow smile curling on his face. “There's only one correct answer, by the way.”

Tony kisses him instead. It seems like the perfect solution. “C'mon.”

Clint huffs another laugh, his arms curling around Tony's shoulders. He's half-lying on Steve again, his usual position in the couch, angled so he can see the other Alpha's face. “It's about Phil.”

“Is something wrong?” Steve asks immediately, and Clint's eyes grow fond with the faint worry in the Captain's voice and scent.

“No, nothing's wrong. 'S just... I told you about how it was, before Tony,” he says and Steve nods. Tony doesn't say anything, but he smiles when Clint's eyes flicker over to him. “And, well – it wasn't, it wasn't the perfect solution, really, not at the time. But it was a whole lot better than anything I'd had before, and I know Phil appreciated the... I dunno, the company, I guess.” He squirms a little, his brows furrowing.

“Go on,” Steve murmurs.

“It's just – well, I've got you... I mean, we've got each other now, and it's,” Clint huffs, growing a little flustered. “It's pretty damn awesome, really.”

“Damn straight,” Tony says, softer than he intended, and Steve nods.

“But Phil is back now, and I know – he won't say it, he's _Phil_ and a stubborn fuck,” Clint says with a tiny grin, before it dims. “But I know he misses, y'know, to have someone. And... I don't, I don't want him to be lonely.” He squirms again, his gaze fixed on Tony's goatee.

Steve frowns, but unlike Tony, whose instincts are already screaming _he's breaking the bond with you, he's leaving_ , the Captain isn't freaking out. “What exactly do you need, Clint?”

“I don't _need_ anything, Steve,” Clint says and bumps Steve's cheek with his nose – a small, reassuring nudge. “I'm just – I guess I'm asking whether it would be okay if I... I dunno, hung out some extra with Phil, or something. It wouldn't be – we wouldn't – that's not what I'm saying,” Clint fumbles, and he's not really saying anything that makes sense, but Tony gets it anyway and the ball of worry in his stomach dissipates.

“Clinton Francis Barton,” he says, and Clint tenses up, “are you asking your Alphas for permission to _cuddle Agent Coulson_?”

“We don't _cuddle_ ,” Clint snaps, the tip of his ears growing pink. “I'm just saying that if I'd sometimes smell like Phil, it wouldn't be because we were fucking.”

“You are!” Tony crows, leaning back to grin obnoxiously at his Omega. “You're asking for _cuddling permission_! Oh my god, that is just gorgeous. You are a precious little snowflake, you know that, Clint?”

“Go die in a fire, Tony,” Clint grumbles, cheeks still tinted. Steve chuckles and Tony kisses his pout away.

“If that _is_ what you're asking for, Clint, I'd have absolutely no problem with that,” Steve says and presses his lips to Clint's temple. “I want Phil to be happy too.”

“I have one condition,” Tony says when he leans back. “I want to see that. I think my heart would swell three sizes and it would be the best Christmas ever. _Please_.”

“It's not... Christmas,” Steve says, because he still hasn't seen the Grinch (and wow, Tony needs to remedy that), and Clint gives Tony a half-hearted glare.

“No pictures.”

“Aww, come _on_.”

“Fuck you,” Clint says and Tony chuckles. “And you'll have to ask Phil about the watching. Does that count as voyeurism?”

“Cuddle-voyeurism,” Tony says seriously. “Because I am the kinkiest.”

Clint laughs quietly and lies back down against Steve's warm, big, safe chest, pulling Tony down with him.

“Thanks a lot, you guys,” Clint mumbles, almost too quiet to hear.

“Of course, Clint,” Steve murmurs and Tony agrees. After a few more minutes of silence, and Tony's hands carding through Clint's short hair, their archer is fast asleep.

Steve's chest suddenly jerks with laughter, and Tony smiles up at him. “What's that, Spangles?”

“I just remembered what you told me, after the first time.” Steve buries his face in Clint's hair for a moment. “That he was a cuddler.”

“Yeah,” Tony grins. “I'm glad he's out of the cuddle closet. Must have been so hard for him, the poor thing.”

“You guys suck,” Clint mumbles sleepily without opening his eyes.

~*~

_“So that's a... thing now,” Tony says and scratches idly at the back of his hand. He looks in Pepper's direction, but not_ at _her, because he doesn't know how she'll react and shit, this is awkward. He wishes Clint was here. (And wow, isn't that an embarrassing thought?)_

_Pepper is quiet for a longer time than Tony thought, and his shoulders might creep up a little more. “You're serious, aren't you?” she says, finally._

_“Yup.” He still doesn't look at her, at anything, really. He checks his nails even if he totally isn't the type, just to have something less-than-obvious to fiddle with while the awkward silence stews._

_“Oh,_ Tony _,” and then he's being – hugged? What the hell?_

_“Pep?” Tony says, his arms full of redheaded, badass CEO._

_Pepper's eyes are actually shiny when they meet his, and her smile is wide and beautiful. “I am so, so happy for you both, Tony,” she says and hugs him again._

_This time he manages to actually hug back, though his mind is still reeling. “You are? I mean, of course you are. Right. Thanks?”_

_“You're so ridiculous,” she sighs and doesn't move away. “We didn't work out, Tony. That doesn't mean I ever wanted you to be_ alone _.”_

_“No, of course, right,” Tony says, because obviously she didn't. That would mean that Pepper is a petty woman, and she isn't. Tony's a little petty – just a little – but Pep? No fucking way. “I just – I don't know.”_

_“Tony,” she sighs, but it's fond, all Pepper, and she squeezes his shoulder when he leans back. She smells different, now, after bonding with Happy. It's strange to know that Tony's scent will change soon, too – become more similar to Clint's. “So, tell me all about Clint,” she says, her voice no-nonsense and her face all childish delight._

_“You already know him,” Tony points out._

_“Not through your eyes, I don't. Are you guys going to bond?” she asks, straightening her skirt when she sits back on her own chair. The café around them is busy enough that nobody's noticed their little moment, and now she grabs her coffee cup and fixes him with a look._

_“Um,” he says. “Well, actually-”_

_Pepper gasps. “_ Anthony Stark _, you have been bonding and you didn't_ tell me _?” There's nothing angry in her voice, only mock-upset, and this is when Tony knows that they're good. They're back to where they used to be, and the relief is almost heady. He's_ missed _Pepper, missed her friendship long after he stopped missing the sex and romantic parts of their past relationship._

 _“I'm sorry!” he says; maybe squeaks. “We haven't been telling before now – I swear I'm not keeping you out of the loop by purpose, Pep.” He sticks out his lower lip and widens his eyes. “I would_ never do that _.”_

_She laughs and swats at him. “You're deflecting. It's not going to work.”_

_Tony rolls his eyes. “What do you want me to say? We're just- just.”_

_“Just bonding, for the first time in your life,” Pepper points out. “Not to mention that you've got that glow.” She looks so damn gleeful._

_“What glow?” Tony quickly checks his reflection in his spoon, but he looks normal. “There's no glow.”_

_“Trust me, there's a glow,” she says and kisses his cheek. “It's very cute.”_

_“There's no glow!” Tony says and rubs at his cheeks, just in case there's a glow._

_“Which of you initiated the bonding?” Pepper says, still not letting him get away from that. Pepper's prying skills are nearly as good as Natasha's, which is a frightening thought._

_“Peeeep,” Tony whines and puts on his sunglasses to hide from her._

_She, of course, snatches them. Because she's_ evil _. “You did, didn't you? Aww._ Tony _.”_

_“Now I remember why I didn't tell you before,” Tony grouses into his triple espresso, feeling his cheeks prickle with heat._

_Pepper laughs and hugs him again._

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Tony makes a brief joke about domestic abuse, but he's called on it. Even so, I'd like to point out that I don't condone domestic abuse or think it's funny. Also brief mentions of angsty nightmares.

Clint is already gone when Tony wakes up, on a plane to Paraguay. Neither Tony nor Steve know what he's doing there, but that's par for the course. All they know is that he'll be gone for the next four days. Tony's got a couple of meetings he needs to attend aside from his usual work, and Cap has a gala on Thursday (Tony contemplates going with him, because he can smell nervousness on the guy every time he thinks about it, poor thing), but aside from that and the ever-present possibility of a pending apocalypse, it's going to be a quiet week.

He checks his watch; almost eleven. Steve is still asleep, which is strange, but it's happened more often since he moved in with Tony and Clint. It's hardly a secret that all three of them sleep better with their pack around, even though nightmares still happen. Sometimes Tony awakens, gasping for air with the phantom feeling of water clogging his mouth and nose, or clawing at his arc reactor. Sometimes he dreams about the nuke and his brief journey to another dimension, about Loki pressing the spear tip to his chest and his arc reactor failing to protect him. Sometimes – and those are the worst – Tony dreams that his suit takes over the control, and kills his team slowly, intimately, in every way he knows they fear. (Tony wishes he never saw that footage of Loki and Natasha.)

Steve talks in his sleep sometimes; crying out for Bucky, for Peggy, mumbling about ' _just one dance_ , waking up with wild eyes and a hammering heart, asking which year it is. Once, right after he moved into this apartment, Steve woke them up in the middle of the night with a low, anguished cry. Tony hugged him and Clint curled up close, asking if Steve wanted to talk about it, and the Captain shuddered bodily. “You fell, you both – I was too late and you fell,” Steve choked out, eyes brimming with tears and past pain, and Clint and Tony held him for almost an hour before the super-soldier calmed down enough to go back to sleep.

Clint has more nightmares than the two Alphas combined, but he's also quieter about it. It's another trained thing, Tony thinks; Clint jerks awake without a sound, without a word, barely twitching as he comes to. He'll suck in gulps of breath and let his eyes roam around the room, scanning for exits and presences. Sometimes he will slip out of the bed, trying not to wake the others up, and enter the bathroom. He'll leave the door open, presumably so that Tony can see him (Tony doesn't know what to do with that sign of trust, but he appreciates it immensely), and check the color of his eyes in the mirror. Lean his forehead against the cool glass and fog it up with his breath and just... stand there, lost, until Tony or Steve (sometimes both of them) get out of bed and join him.

“Just you in there now,” Steve will say quietly, and Clint will sigh.

“I know. Just... yeah. Just me.”

 

Steve sleeps peacefully now, though. He's sprawled on his stomach, partly on top of the covers because the guy produces heat like a fucking furnace. His face is smushed into the pillow, and Tony knows there will be pillow creases everywhere when the guy wakes up.

Tony rolls over onto his side and trails his hand down Steve's naked, unblemished back. It's amazing to see the difference in Tony's two partners; where Steve is miles of perfect, pale skin, Clint's whole, tanned body is riddled with scars. Long, thin ones; puckered bullet scars; burns and scars they don't know what caused; what looks like a small initial – D – carved into the meat of his right thigh. Steve and Clint are so different, in every way – and somehow, Tony ended up right next to them. With them.

Steve snuffles into the pillow and the muscles of his shoulders ripple, like a horse trying to shake off a fly. Tony smiles and ignores the urge to tickle the super-soldier; he's still sleeping.

Steve so rarely sleeps in.

Captain America twitches and mumbles something; it sounds like _'angry birds'_ and Tony snorts silently. He lies on the side, taking a moment to stare at his fellow Alpha. The restlessness, usually a near-constant presence in Tony's life up until six months ago, is completely missing right now. He just lounges; watches Steve's back rise and fall with a slow, perfect rhythm.

He must have fallen back asleep at some point, because when he opens his eyes again, Steve's the one who's watching _him_. “You were snoring,” Steve says before Tony can deny anything. “Little, cute snores. Like a puppy.”

“You did _not_ just compare me to a puppy, Rogers,” Tony grumbles, his limbs still heavy and uncooperative. Wow, he must actually have been sleeping.

“I did,” Steve says, calm and non-apologetic. “If it helps, I think you're a very cute puppy.” He puts a hand on Tony's neck; tugs lightly on the strands of hair curling there.

“What? No!” Tony says, and really, he's going to storm out of here any moment, just as soon as Cap stops doing that thing with his hand, because it's... it's really nice. “No, that does not _help_! Sexy puppy, that I can live with. Not 'cute'.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Steve says nonchalantly and shifts close enough that their sides touch, but doesn't stop caressing Tony's neck. “I meant _adorable_.”

See, little known fact about Captain America? He's fucking _evil_.

“I'm storming out of here,” Tony mutters and buries his face in his own pillow. Steve laughs quietly next to him. “I'm serious!” His voice is muffled, but he keeps talking anyway. “Any moment now, I'll be making a huge scene. Any moment.”

“Mmm,” Steve says and kisses his shoulder. “I'm dreading it already.”

“Bet you are.”

“Yep. Practically quivering. It's not pretty.”

Tony mumbles something even _he_ can't make out. Steve huffs a laugh against his shoulder; Tony feels the warm puff of air.

“Come here,” Steve murmurs and removes his hand from Tony's neck, only to curl it around him and pull him close. Tony _could_ squirm and pretend that he doesn't want to be here, but it seems a little... pointless. In the end, he tucks his head underneath Steve's chin and silently dares the Captain to say a word about it.

Steve doesn't. He's kind... not awful, like that.

~*~

_Technically, the only Avengers who don't know about Tony and Clint by now are Thor and Steve, so the bonding couple opt to tell Fury and Hill at the same time – in the middle of a meeting. And okay, so there are maybe smoother ways for them to break the news than Tony standing up and saying “Me and Barton are fucking, and there's a bond involved, in case you'd like to know”, but it gets the point across nicely._

_Natasha's lips curl enough that Tony knows she must be laughing on the inside, and Clint groans out loud. “Nice, Stark.”_

_Bruce actually puts his face in his hands, and Steve looks confused for a moment before smiling, but Thor grins and stands up to slap Tony's back companionably._

_“Congratulations, Anthony! This is wonderful news indeed!” Then he spins around to Clint, who's risen to his feet, and does the same to the archer. “And to you, Hawkeye! I wish you both every happiness!”_

_Steve's smile widens once he realizes that it's not a joke, or a reference he doesn't get. “That's great, you guys! Congratulations!”_

_“Thanks, man,” Clint mumbles and doesn't look towards Fury – who hasn't said a word or moved a muscle – or Hill, whose face looks pinched to the point of pain._

_After a tense moment, Hill glances at her superior, before sighing. “I will send you both the appropriate forms to fill out,” she says, which is practically a 'congratulations', coming from her._

_“Don't fuck it up,” Fury says, and that's... that. They finish the meeting and leave, and Clint looks as surprised by the lack of drama as Tony is._

_“I need a fucking drink,” Clint says once they're outside. “I thought Fury would kill us both for sure.”_

_“First one's on me,” Natasha says. “For the new couple.” Tony really, truly can't tell if it's a joke or not._

_“Aye, a celebration is in order!” Thor says._

_“As long as somebody's buying me drinks, I don't care,” Clint says with a tilt to his mouth. He stays close to Tony's side, though – not touching, but close._

_“See, now that you're a kept man,_ I _can provide the drinks for you,” Tony says, because he likes playing with fire._

 _Clint, of course, punches him in the stomach. It's not hard enough for him to go down, but it's more than hard enough to knock the air out of him. Tony still laughs through his pained gasps, because Clint's face – wide with a mix of Omega indignation and_ oh no you didn't _– was fucking beautiful._

_"Totally worth it,” Tony wheezes, and Bruce smiles at Clint._

_“You have interesting taste, I'll give you that.”_

_“I have the fucking_ worst _taste,” Clint mutters, before his scowl changes into a smirk and he hooks his arm around Tony's waist. “Oh,_ babe _, are you alright? Here, let me_ help you _.” And he pets Tony's cheek condescendingly. “I'll protect you, Tony-toy.”_

_“Ouch, burn,” Tony says, grinning. “Also that is the worst nickname in the history of ever, you know that?”_

_“Really?” Clint says and lets go of him, though not without a final squeeze. “I'm sure I could come up with something worse if I tried.”_

_“Yeah? Don't try.”_

_“You guys are perfect for each other, aren't you?” Steve says ruefully._

_“Aww,_ Cap _,” Clint chirps and bats his eyelashes at the Captain._

_“I'm embarrassed by you,” Natasha says to Clint, her tone level. Clint grins and pulls her into a sideways hug, one she gets out of by poking him sharply in the ribs._

~*~

Steve kicks his ass during sparring. It's not a surprise. Sometimes Tony uses the suit, but contrary to popular belief, he _can_ actually fight without it. Pretty well, too. And now that Happy doesn't teach him anymore, it's good to let out a little steam with Steve sometimes. Tony fights Clint too, of course – even Thor and Natasha. He pretty much loses to everyone, which doesn't dent his ego too badly because super-soldier, demi-god, and assassins-times-two. He'd rather lose than for everyone to treat him like he can't handle himself.

Still. It's kind of fun to see Steve fret when he gets in a good hit. “I'm sorry – I was aiming for–”

“Steve, seriously, it's fine,” Tony chuckles, holding the ice packet to his rapidly swelling eye. “Not my first rodeo.”

They're both sweaty and gross, but Steve isn't moving towards the showers. Instead he's hovering, not reaching out for Tony to check his eye but clearly wanting to, and Tony watches him for a moment before sighing.

“If I let Bruce take a look at it, will you quit the mother-henning?”

“Promise,” Steve says and perks right up.

They go bother Bruce, who – of course – tells them Tony's going to be fine, it's just a black eye, blah blah blah. Steve isn't like this after missions, which is good because it would drive both Tony _and_ Clint up the wall – but it's different when it's Steve who lands the punch, Tony knows. Steve is so much stronger than Tony in the physical sense, because of the serum, and it seems like he's afraid that... Tony doesn't quite know. Maybe that the serum will automatically turn Steve into a bully or something.

“I'm sorry,” Steve says again, and Tony glares at him. Steve sighs. “Yes, I know, but – okay. Shower?”

“Oh Steve, you romantic, you,” Tony says and lets Steve drag him back to their floor. He even lets Steve undress him; mostly because it seems like a sexy thing rather than a protective-Alpha thing. “Do you think I should tell the media it was a 'domestic dispute'?” Tony muses in front of the mirror, staring at the purplish, swollen skin around his right eye.

Steve flinches, the sweetheart. “That's no joking matter, Tony.”

“It is when you're dating _Captain America_ ,” Tony says and steps into the humongous, awesome shower he special-designed for the three of them. He gasps when a thought occurs to him. “Oh my God, what would _Phil_ say? It would crush his little fan-boy heart.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve snaps.

Tony rolls his eyes and drags the super-soldier into the shower. “Fine, it's no laughing matter. I'm so very sorry, Captain.” He pulls until Steve's flush against him, so the super-soldier crowds him against the wall. “You should probably spank me, so I never do it again. Just to be sure.”

Steve rolls his eyes right back at him, and turns on the water. “You're not funny.”

“Of course I'm not funny,” Tony says and grabs Steve's ass with both hands. “I'm _naughty_. That's the _point_.”

Steve huffs a laugh and pushes him under the stream, making Tony splutter.

~*~

_Steve is munching Lucky Charms right out of the cereal box when Tony enters the Avengers' kitchen. It's a fucking adorable sight, and it hits Tony in a way he doesn't know how to deal with._

_It's the first time they've met, only the two of them, since Clint's heat. The Omega's currently on a mission in Africa – one of the longer ones. (Tony totally doesn't wake up in the middle of the night and misses the warmth of the archer's body next to his own. Totally.) “Morning, Tony,” Steve says and smiles; a lopsided, uncertain thing. “How are your ribs?”_

_“Pretty fucking awesome,” Tony says. They're healing nicely, and according to Bruce, they should stop aching in a week or so. Just in time for Clint to return back home._

_“That's good!” Steve says, his face brightening. “That's really good.” He stares at Tony for another minute, before he seems to realize that he is, in fact, staring. He promptly goes back to eating his dry cereal._

_Tony fixes himself a cup of coffee – it's too early for food. “What's your plan on this mighty fine day, Cap?”_

_“I don't know,” Steve says and stares at the wall in the kitchen that is all windows. “I thought I might take a walk later. Visit Central Park, maybe.”_

_Tony grunts his approval into his mug. “You_ have _been there since you defrosted, right?”_

_“Yeah, I've been there a few times,” Steve says with a smile. “I like it there; there's always something going on. Something for me to draw.”_

_Tony smirks. “Well, you don't have to go to Central Park just to find things to draw, Cap.” He finds himself thinking back at Steve's time with Clint; at the aftermath, Steve looking up at him and clearly not caring that Tony's another Alpha._ Do you need... help? _“You could draw me like one of your French girls.”_

_Steve frowns, his hand still in the Lucky Charms box. “What? I have no French girls. Wait, you mean the French prostitute?”_

_Tony's been laughing, but now he almost chokes on his own tongue. “_ What _? What French prostitute?”_

_Steve goes beet red. “I guess not,” he mumbles into the cereal box._

_“Oh my God, Cap._ Share _.” Tony hops onto the counter._

_Steve shakes his head. “No, really – it's nothing. Nothing like you would think, at least.”_

_“Doesn't mean I don't want to hear about it,” Tony says and leans his elbows on his knees._

_Steve gives him a dubious look._

_“No, seriously,” Tony says and finds that he means it. “You almost never talk about the good ol' days, other than when you look confused about something.”_

_Steve puts the Lucky Charms box back in the cupboard that's technically his on this floor, before turning his back on Tony to wash his hands clean. “I wouldn't... think you'd be interested.” There's an edge of sadness – maybe loneliness – in his voice that tells Tony that this is more about Steve than him._

_“Well, I am,” Tony says, and makes sure there's not a trace of sarcasm in that sentence. “I'm also bored, but I'm mostly interested.” He remembers one of the Captain's earlier stories, and adds: “Although you don't need to tell me about my Dad. You really, really don't need to.”_

_Steve gives him a sad smile, like he wishes Tony could see Howard Stark like Steve does, but he nods anyway. “Um, alright. Well, it started with Bucky,” the Alpha says and wipes his hands on the soft towel by the sink, eyes far away. He chuckles. “To be honest, most everything started with Bucky back then.”_

_Tony grins, and perches on the kitchen counter while Steve talks about his past. Apparently, Captain America's past really_ does _include French prostitutes._

__

~*~

“That's a real shiner you have there,” Jane says when Tony and Steve walk into the Avengers' common room later that night. Her smile is friendly.

“Yep,” Tony says and flops down onto the floor, since the couch is currently occupied by a snuggling Thor and Jane. Bruce has taken up one of the armchairs, Phil the second, and the third chair is empty since both Natasha and Clint are out of the country. “The bad guys haven't got anything compared to Captain America's right hook,” he says and drags Steve down with him.

“It was an accident,” Steve says, _again_ , and looks around the room. “We were sparring.”

Phil's mouth curls up at the corners, and Jane chuckles. She and Thor lie tangled on the couch, covered by a large, gray, ratty quilt Tony has no idea how got into the Tower. Thor's head rests on his Alpha's chest, and Jane cards her hand absently through his long, blond locks.

“We believe you, Steven,” Thor says, his voice quieter than usual because of his girlfriend's ministrations. “You would not hurt Anthony on purpose.” Even _he_ smirks, knowing how twitchy Steve can get when he beats up someone less super than him on the team.

Steve sighs and gives Tony a look saying _I know I'm ridiculous_ and settles by his side. There's an array of soft pillows strewn on the floor, making it pretty comfortable where they lie. “What's on the agenda?” Tony asks and waves a hand in Bruce's direction until the doctor shares his popcorn bowl.

“Pride and Prejudice,” Phil says and sounds decidedly smug.

Tony groans loudly and squishes his face between the pillows and Steve's back. “ _Why_.”

“The boys wanted their Austen, what can I say?” Jane says, her voice full of laughter. Tony groans louder when no one contradicts her, because that means it's _true_ , goddammit. Is he the only one who appreciates a decent action movie?

“Don't be a spoilsport,” Steve says and pokes him in the stomach. “We sat through _Speed_ last week, Tony.” The movie's starting up, and Tony reluctantly looks up at the screen. It's the newer version, the Colin Firth one, which – okay, so Tony still hates these romance-and-stilted-talking movies, but Firth isn't bad to look at in his time-appropriate costume. 

He already knows that Steve likes period movies, and the super-soldier hooks his arm around Tony's shoulders. They lounge on the floor, legs intertwined, with most of their team around and behind them, and Tony has to concede that Steve's proximity and content scent makes Austen a lot easier to endure.

~*~

_“Am I over-doing it? Is it too much?” he asks and steps into the bedroom, where Clint is getting dressed._

_The Omega smirks when he sees Tony. “You always over-do it, Stark.” Unlike Tony, who's wearing a crisp, dark purple suit with a matching navy tie, Clint's just wearing one of his slightly-less-tattered jeans and a striped shirt._

 _“Yes, but am I over-doing it_ too much _?” Tony asks and looks down at himself. He should be alright; he's not even sparkly and the Captain would approve of the dressing up, right? Tony smooths his fingers down the suit jacket's silky texture and ignores the urge to steal Clint's place in front of the bedroom mirror._

_Clint's eyes twinkle with amusement, and he comes over to stand in front of Tony, giving him a thorough once-over. “I dunno why I'm surprised that you're acting like a teenager on his first date, but I am.” He steps in close and wraps his hand around Tony's tie, and tugs on it lightly. “It's charming as hell.”_

_“I'm_ not _,” Tony grouses, but lets himself get pulled into a dirty kiss. As soon as Clint pulls back, he straightens and fixes Tony's tie. His movements are brisk and efficient, and it's clear that he's done this numerous times before – which is weird, because Tony has never, ever seen Clint wear a tie. Not even during official Avenger stuff._

_“Calm down, m'kay?” Clint says, still smirking, though he doesn't laugh at Tony for his nerves. Tony appreciates that. “I think the Captain is a done deal by this point; if he didn't run out on us when I was in heat, or during the last two dates, he's not gonna run.”_

_“I know,” Tony says, because he does, okay? He knows. Steve isn't flimsy, he's stubborn as hell, and Tony can see that the guy wants to be here. Be with them. It doesn't stop the voice in his head that says Steve will run in the opposite direction as soon as he_ really _gets to know them. Not Clint, so much, because Clint is amazing. But Tony... he's an acquired taste. (Which is a polite way of saying he's an asshole.)_

 _Tony doesn't get how Clint is so calm about this. Of course, he could just be a better faker than Tony, but the guy smells relaxed too, and that's a whole lot more difficult to fake than a smile. Tony isn't even sure why this is such a big deal, except that's a fucking lie, because this is_ Captain America _. Even more; it's_ Steve Rogers _, the guy Tony hated at first sight and turned out to be the sweetest fucking guy on this side of the millennium. He makes Tony's belly tumble, in a very different way than Clint does. Clint makes Tony want to snarl at the world and everyone who fucked the archer over in the past; Clint ignites the protective spark in Tony like few others have done in his life, but doesn't let Tony get away with mothering him. Clint can take care of himself_ and _Tony, no problem, which makes his inner Alpha both happy and relaxed at the same time. Clint is a great reason to get up in the morning._

 _Steve... Steve makes Tony want to stop and smell the roses. Sit down for a while and do nothing; read, or draw, or just... stare at the world around him. Steve grounds Tony in the now, while Clint protects Tony and lets Tony protect_ him _. Tony doesn't know what the three of them will be like if this deal go through, if their tentative threesome dynamic becomes a fixed thing in their lives – but he thinks it would work out._

_He's got a good feeling about them._

_… Of course, that doesn't make him any less nervous._

_It's Clint's time to pick a place this time, and he chooses a run-down burger joint right on the edge of the city, where there are too many people to notice that there are three Avengers in their midst. It's also a place with a lot of same-sex couples, Tony notes – even two female Omegas who are clearly bonded – and wonders when Clint started hanging here. It's clear that he's a regular, from the grin their waitress gives him. “Frank! It's been ages!”_

_“Hey, Polly,” Clint says and actually leans in for a hug. She's a young, pretty Beta with black hair and deep-brown, warm eyes, and she gives both the Alphas at the table a small salute._

_“Mornin', fellas,” she says even though it's evening, “what can I do you for?” She takes their orders, writing on her notepad so fast it looks like doodling, before tucking the pen behind her ear. “You know, anyone ever tell you you look an awful lot like that Captain America?” she says to Steve._

_The super-soldier smiles politely back at her. “Thank you?”_

_She laughs. “Oh, believe me, fella – it's a compliment.” And she winks at Clint before walking off, weaving her way expertly through the near-swamped place._

_“Polly has a gift for spotting pre-bonding couples,” Clint says with a snort, before he realizes what he's implying and gives Steve a panicked look. “Not that I'm – I mean, this isn't –”_

_“Wow, classy Freudian slip there, Barton,” Tony says with a laugh, because at least_ he _stopped fidgeting and freaking out before Steve could see him. Looks like Clint isn't as cucumber-calm as Tony thought._

_“It's okay, Clint,” Steve says with a shy, crooked smile. “We'll cross that bridge if we get to it?” It sounds like a question, but nobody answers him. Instead they all stir in their own, awkward-yet-oddly-comfortable silence until Polly returns with their drinks._

_“Like your goatee,” she says to Tony, and leaves without another word. She's kind of weird, Tony thinks, in a way that reminds him vaguely of Clint. He can't put his finger on it._

_When he looks over at Steve, the other Alpha is either staring at his lips or said goatee, and Tony carefully, deliberately, licks his lips. Steve's cheeks tint and Tony chuckles._

_“Subtle, Tony,” Clint mutters, but with a smirk on his face._

_The conversation starts flowing, slowly but surely, until they – or at least Tony – forget that this is a Third Date, and thus stop freaking out inside his head. Tony's burger is fucking amazing, juicy and tender and just the right side of greasy. They eat, talk and laugh, easy as nothing, and by the time they leave, they're all slightly drunk on that_ this is going so well _feeling a really successful date can bring out._

 _They take a cab back home to the Tower, since they're still pretending to be superhero-lookalikes, and not the real deal. More by accident than any deliberate planning, Steve ends up in the middle of the back seat, and after sharing a look with Tony, Clint takes the super-soldier's hand. Steve looks surprised, happily so, which makes Tony grab his other hand because seriously, they're doing this_ right _._

_Nothing more happens, at least not in the cab, and their entwined hands aren't even visible in the cab driver's rear view mirror. Even so, it's strangely... intimate, sitting like this, knowing what will – probably – happen in just a short while._

__

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint's nickname, 'Tony-toy', is from a different fic I can't seem to find; it's possibly my favorite Tony nickname so far. It was a Clint/Tony+Bruce fic, I think – if you have the link, let me know!
> 
> ETA: Found! It's Feeling of Freedom by whiteraven1606. Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/696907 <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay; I got this funny-fun thing of fun called Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo (look it up, it's awesome) and haven't been able to read, never mention write, for the last week. I'm better, though it's not gone, and it's bad timing since I'm moving out of my apartment _tomorrow_ , so the next chapter might not be out for a while. At least you know now!
> 
> Chapter warnings: None really, except it might look to an outsider like I'm trying to apologize and bribe you guys with porn. I'm really not - it's more coincidence than anything else - but if it works, I'm happy. ;)

When he and Clint had first started screwing around outside of heats, Tony hadn't been at all surprised that the Omega wanted to fuck Tony. The myths claiming that Omegas only ever wanted to take it, and Alphas ever wanted to give, have never been anything but bullshit in Tony's eyes – not to mention he loved taking it up the ass himself every now and then.

Tony had been a little surprised that Captain America liked switching it up, though – at least in the beginning.

He rolls them over again, and Steve lets him. Tony straddles the Alpha and just stares for a moment, like he always does when it's just the two of them. It isn't, not often, and it's usually when Clint is physically incapable of being there with them. But it does happen, and it's fun; Steve can be _playful_ in bed, more so than Tony had thought.

Steve slides his hands up and down Tony's back, before settling them on his hips. He doesn't try to roll them over; doesn't move. Just smiles up at Tony, not shy but something close to it, and rubs his thumbs over Tony's sharp hipbones.

“What?” Tony wants to know, and bends down to trace the super-soldier's jaw and neck with his tongue. (He won't bite down. He'll nip, but not bite. It's one of the few times his and Steve's Alpha selves head-butt, so they've learned to stay off the biting unless it involves Clint.)

“The Austen movie,” Steve says, and gasps a little when Tony nibbles at his ear lobe. “I liked it.”

“Of course you did.” He trails fingers up Steve's chest, finds his nipples, and pinches them none-too-gently. Steve's body shudders beneath him. “I bet you've got the hots for Colin Firth's Darcy now, too. You and the rest of the world.”

“Actually,” Steve says with a breathless little laugh, hands moving down to grab Tony's ass and knead it, “Darcy and Elizabeth reminds me little of you and me.”

Tony raises himself on his elbows to look the Captain in the eye, the glow of his arc reactor lighting up Steve's face and chest. “You said what, now?”

Steve's smile is a weird mixture of demure and apologetic, and he brushes invisible hairs away from his face. “Your first impression of me was pretty similar to Elizabeth's impression of Darcy, wasn't it?” He's look a little too... muchly at Tony right now, and Tony has to concentrate not to break their gaze or the moment.

“A standoffish, proud, old-fashioned dick with a mile-long pole shoved up his ass?” Tony asks, and blinks. “Yeah, that does actually sound like my first impression of you.”

“And I thought you were... well, pretty much the opposite of a gentleman, even as attractive as I found you,” Steve says and stretches his neck to peck the other Alpha on the lips.

“Well, I am a prize ass,” Tony says reasonably, leaning down so Steve has easier access.

“No,” Steve says softly, before his eyes glint. “You _have_ a prize ass.” And he grinds against Tony, both emphasizing his point and allowing them to change the subject to less cavity-inducing stuff.

Tony pushes the air out of his lungs and leans forward, until he half-lies on his fellow Alpha. “Aww, Cap. You say the sweetest things.” He slides his fingers through Steve's hair until he gets a good grip, and tugs – not hard, but enough that Steve leans his head back with a small, but thoroughly approving sound. 

Steve meets him thrust by lazy thrust as they set up a slow rhythm, his grip on Tony's hips solid enough to remind Tony how strong Steve can be. Tony latches onto Steve's collarbone and sucks until there's a dark mark; a mark that pales and disappears while Tony looks at it. It doesn't matter, though; Steve moans at the feeling alone. Tony doesn't need to mark his fellow Alpha, because Steve is already _his_.

He growls softly under his breath and nuzzles Steve's throat, feeling his pulse against his lips alongside the super-soldier's quiet laugh.

“Mutt,” Steve murmurs and squirms a hand between their bodies, wrapping around them both.

“Speak for your- _ah_ -self,” Tony says when Steve flicks his thumb nail carefully over Tony's slit, and groans into the pillow Steve's head rests against. His own hand joins Steve's and then they rut, like teenagers, like it's their first time instead of the umpteenth. Steve doesn't perspire much unless they make a marathon out of it, but Tony's sweating, and that's enough to let him glide slickly against the other Alpha's body as they climb their way towards release.

~*~

_It's only when they get back to Tony and Clint's apartment that things get awkward and tense. All three of them stand in the doorway, jackets off but the rest of their clothes on, and nobody seems to know where to go from here. Last time, it was easy – last time Clint was in heat and needed help, and there wasn't_ time _to freak out properly. It was fast and rushed and hot as hell, but that's not what this time should be like. Tony wants to take his time, and he knows Clint wants the same – but 'slow' also gives them way too much time to worry about things that can go wrong._

_“So, uh, how do we go about this, guys?” It's Clint who finally breaks the almost tangible silence. “I mean, there are some... obvious stuff, but we've got... I dunno, more to choose from this time around, I guess.” He grimaces at that, but Steve huffs a laugh._

_“Maybe we could just... see what happens?” He takes a step forward, towards the bedroom and towards Clint, his fingers twitching but not reaching out._

_“Play it by ear? I like your plan, Cap,” Tony says and takes a chance – lines up against Steve's back and slides his arms around him, tugging Clint forward so the super-soldier is sandwiched between them. “Like this, for example?”_

_“Oh, um,” Steve says and his hands land tentatively on Clint's shoulders. “Yes, that would – that could work.” When Clint laughs, Steve leans down to kiss him, tilting his hips at the same time so his slacks-covered ass is perfectly lined up against Tony's crotch._

_Tony splutters. “Captain! You play_ dirty _!” This is a wonderful discovery and development, and Clint's small “mmf” suggests he agree. And just like that, it's as if some spell has been broken – or a dam of unresolved sexual tension has burst (which Tony thinks is a hilarious mental image). There's stumbling and fumbling and groaning and moaning, and before Tony has time to fully process everything, they're in the bedroom and hey, where did his clothes go?_

_“How did you,” he asks Steve, who's kissing him while Clint is sucking faint marks all the way down his chest._

_“Superpowers,” Steve murmurs, eyes full of humor, and moves down Tony's body to kiss Clint's neck._

_It's the first time Steve's been in his bed that Tony knows that he can_ touch _; he's allowed to kiss and roam his hands over Steve's body, allowed to stare. Soon, both he and Clint are tag-teaming Steve, pushing him down onto his back and exploring him with their mouths and fingers. Steve doesn't mind the attention in the slightest, if his erection is anything to go by, but he's not idle. He trails his hands over both of them, everywhere he can reach, pulling each of them close in turn for sloppy, patient kisses._

_“I've,” Steve says when he breaks away from another kiss with Tony, his hair adorably mussed already. “I have a, uh, suggestion, maybe?” He glances between the two others, Clint moving to kneel behind Tony, draping himself over his Alpha's back._

_“Do tell, Cap,” Clint says with a lazy grin. “You_ are _the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan, after all.” He licks at the curve of Tony's ear._

_Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't stop stroking up and down Tony's sides, eyes fixed on Clint's. “If it's something you want, Clint, I would like to... return the favor from last time.”_

_There is a second of pause, of silence, as the couple figure out what exactly the Captain means by that. Then Tony groans and swoops in to kiss Steve breathless. “_ Yes. _. Yes, I like that plan – Clint?”_

_“Hell yeah,” Clint says, grinning, and Steve smile widens against Tony's lips._

_He leans back, though, after a few seconds. “But this time, I'll help you out, Tony.”_

_Tony chuckles. “Really not something I've got an issue with, Cap.”_

_Steve's hand trails lower as the Alpha lies back down, spreading his legs – and jesus, isn't that a sight for the history books – and letting Clint settle between them. Clint has already gotten the lube, and he presses oddly chaste kisses to the inside of Steve's thighs. He's done that same thing before to Tony, countless times, and it's weird to see that and know exactly how it feels for Steve. The Captain closes his hand around Tony, tentative, if not hesitant. He pumps a few times, experimental, his eyes locked on Tony's to gauge his reaction. Tony leans down to nip at the super-soldier's lower lip, in lieu of telling him that he's doing just awesome._

_Steve twitches, letting out a soft sound against Tony's lips, who pulls back to see that Clint has breached the Alpha with one finger, grinning at Tony like he does when he takes a particularly impossible shot. Tony leans over and makes out with his Omega while the archer stretches Steve, and rests one hand on the Captain's abdomen to feel the way he struggles to keep his hips still._

_“How're you doing there, Steve?” Clint asks when he adds another finger, the two of them turning to stare at Steve's slightly flushed face. The other Alpha's watching them kiss with darkening eyes._

_“Good, I'm good,” Steve says and quirks an embarrassed smile at the hoarseness of his voice._

_Tony chuckles and works his way back up Steve's chest, tracing every dip and swell with his tongue. Steve's hand is still wrapped around Tony, and then the other hand suddenly pushes into his hair, fingernails scratching oh-so-lightly at his scalp. Tony shudders bodily as tingles go down his entire spine. He lets out a moan against Steve's nipple, feeling strong, increased heart beat beneath the skin and bone._

_Clint laughs and presses an absent kiss to the back of Tony's shoulder. “Congrats, Cap – you found one of Tony's good spots.”_

_“Do I get a reward?” Steve asks, voice low, warm, and full of laughter._

_“Name it,” Tony says breathily as the fingers keep tracing his scalp. He looks up._

_Steve's cheeks are pink and his gaze is on Tony. “Can I, uh, suck you?”_

_“Jesus,” comes Clint's rough voice from somewhere behind Tony's back, once again licking at Steve's inner thighs._

_“Yes,” Tony says and leans into Steve's hand, looking up at the super-soldier through hooded eyes. “Yeah, you very, very can, Rogers.”_

_Steve chuckles shyly, which Tony didn't even know was possible, but their Captain is full of surprises. He shuffles up the bed until he settles right by Steve's head, the Alpha's bright-blue eyes unblinking on his own._

_“How do you want it, Steve?” Tony says, and that sentence could be so fucking dirty, but it isn't – his voice comes out too soft, too genuine._

_“While-” Steve breaks off with a low cry, hips thrusting up into nothing, and Clint gives them a wicked smile. “Oh,” Steve says, almost awed, and Tony's reminded of how long it's been for the super-soldier. “Um, while – while Clint,” Steve says and with the Omega scissoring his fingers inside the Alpha, that seems to be the closest Steve can get to a full sentence right now._

_Tony's pretty good at translating in bed, though. “While Clint fucks you?”_

_Steve makes another choked-off noise and nods frantically._

_“You good, Steve?” Clint murmurs, still stretching the Captain, chin resting on one of Steve's knees._

_“Yes,” Steve says, and he sounds breathless even though Tony knows he isn't. “Yes, I'm ready, please-”_

_Tony kisses him, deep and rough, as Clint pulls out his fingers and wipes them off on his discarded t-shirt. The archer pulls on a condom and slicks himself up, while Tony guides Steve up and around, onto his hands and knees._

_“Hey,” Tony murmurs and kisses the Alpha, Clint smoothing his hands over Steve's perfect, curved back. Steve leans into the touches, eyes fluttering shut and face going red. Tony chuckles and bumps their noses together before he pulls away._

_“Mkay,” Clint says softly, and that's the only warning Steve gets before the Omega's pushing in. The super-soldier's back arches and Steve's mouth falls open, eyes still shut tight._

_“Fuck,” Clint says through a shaky laugh, still pushing in oh, so slowly. “I think – I think the serum,” and he stops for a moment, taking a deep breath, hands clamped down tightly on Steve's hips because they know it won't hurt the super-soldier._

_Tony watches from his perch near Steve's head, eyes widening at Clint's fragmented sentence. “He's tightening up?”_

_Clint nods and gives Tony a quick and dirty kiss. He pulls back before snapping his hips forward, fast but not forceful, eliciting a cry from Steve that is definitely not from pain. “_ Fuck _,” Clint says again, sounding awed and moving slowly, leaning forward to press a sloppy kiss between Steve's shoulder blades._

_“How are you doing, Cap?” Tony says and hooks a finger under Steve's chin, tilting his head up. He's met with a wide, if not slightly hazy, smile and an unspoken question in the Alpha's eyes. “Yeah?” Tony asks, and Steve nods jerkily. “Clint? Pause for a second, would you?”_

_Clint lets out a breathy giggle against Steve's spine. “Sure, yeah. No problem. Nothing much going on, anyway.”_

_“Don't bitch,” Tony says with a smirk, and settles on his knees. “Steve?” he murmurs._

_“Yes,” Steve says, dragging out the 's'. He closes his eyes when Tony guides himself into the soft 'o' of the super-soldier's mouth. It's very clear that it's not Steve's first time; he moves his head, if not expertly, then at least in a familiar fashion, breathing through his nose and swirling his tongue around Tony's crown._

_Tony bites his lip and settles a hand on Steve's neck to make sure the Alpha won't choke, before he nods at Clint. The Omega watches the whole ordeal from his own vantage point, pupils dilated and eyes fixed on the place where Tony pushes carefully into Steve's mouth._

_Tony knows that Clint likes getting praised in bed; likes murmured reassurances, maybe even pet names if they're the right ones. But he doesn't know what Steve likes or wants. From their first and only past experience, Tony guesses Steve wouldn't appreciate dirty talk, which is fine by Tony – but he doesn't know much else. So for now, he keeps silent, and swallows down the pet names and the other words that threaten to spill out – rubs his thumb in circles on Steve's neck, instead, as a physical sign of approval._

_Clint starts moving again, slow and sure, giving Steve time to adjust to the feeling of getting taken by both ends – and Tony's brain stutters and threatens to halt completely at that sentence. It's bad enough, watching it all; Clint's thrust, the archer's eyes half-lidded but still fixed on his own; Steve's lips, reddened and puffy where they wrap around him and suck almost tentatively._

_When Clint speeds up, Steve gives up on sucking altogether and just relaxes his jaw. Clint's thrusts push him deeper around Tony, deeper than Tony thought the other Alpha could comfortably reach, but Steve doesn't make any move or sound that suggests he's not comfortable._

_“Christ, Steve,” Tony says and Steve moans when Clint first hits his prostate, his entire body jerking. Clint smirks and proceeds to ram into that same place with every consecutive thrust, making Steve utter garbled, but_ loud _, groans that makes his throat vibrate around Tony._

 _There's no warning. Steve just_ bucks _, shaking as he comes between them with a muffled cry. He must tense around Clint, because the Omega curses quietly and bucks forward, draping himself over the Captain's back as he trembles through his own orgasm. Tony pulls out and Steve flops down onto the mattress, as boneless as Tony's ever seen him. Clint's sprawled on top, but he grins up at Tony when he sees that his Alpha is still as hard as ever._

_“Heeey,” Clint says, drawling like he only ever does after a really long mission or a really hard orgasm. “For me?”_

_Tony grins. “That is so fucking cheesy, Clint.”_

_“Mmm, know,” Clint says and squirms forward, enough that he can wrap a hand around Tony and swallow him down. Steve, who looks half asleep, opens an eye to watch the two of them._

_Tony won't say that Clint sucks like a hoover – mostly because Tony actually tried jacking off into the mouth a hoover as a teenager, and that's one of the most painful experiences his dick has ever been involved in – but he's really fucking talented. It's only a couple of minutes before Tony's hips are moving without his volition, Clint doing nothing to stop him, and when the archer looks up at him through his lashes, Tony is gone long before he's got time to warn the guy._

_Clint grimaces, but swallows, and Tony collapses down onto and beside the two others. “S'ry,” he says, and Clint shrugs._

_“ 'S fine.” He kisses Tony, before they both turn to Steve. The Captain looked half-dead to the world a few minutes ago, but now he looks positively_ perky _, scooting up against the pillows just so he can pull them both close. They share kisses, all three of them, lazy and post-coital and tasting of each other, Steve once again half-hard._

_“Serum?” Clint says, chuckling._

_“It's fine, that tends to happen anyway,” Steve says with a self-conscious shrug._

_“_ Interesting _,” Tony says, even if he's too tired to deal with it properly for now. “This is clearly something that needs to be tested.”_

_“Of course,” Steve says, all sleepy indulgence. Clint and Tony curl around the Captain. Clint's fingers scratch lightly at Tony's scalp, Tony rests his hand in the dip of the Omega's spine, feeling him breathe._

_“Cap?” Clint says and tilts his head to see the super-soldier's face._

_“Yes?”_

_“You're_ really _good in bed, you know that?”_

_Tony laughs and Steve's ears and cheeks tint. “Thanks, Clint.”_

_Steve is warm enough that they don't need the covers, and Tony's eyes droop as he lets the post-coital bliss wash over him. Steve presses a hesitant kiss to Tony's temple and Clint arches his eyebrow. The Omega smiles, sly but happy, and nods once at Tony._

_Yeah._

_“Hey, Steve?” Tony murmurs. They're all flagging now, drifting, not quite ready to fall asleep but close._

_“Mmm?” Steve's hair is dishevelled and his lips are still a little red, but other than that, he looks as put-together and out-of-this-world as usual._

_“You wanna be our boyfriend?” Tony tangles his fingers with Clint and they peer up at the Alpha, matching grins on their faces._

_Steve ducks his head and looks pleased. “That would be pretty swell.”_

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of the nature of this installment, I'm really more delving into minor moments than telling one story. Therefore, if there's something in particular that you would like to see that I haven't touched on, please let me know in the comments. I currently have one more chapter (as well as the beginnings of a longer, different installment and an idea for a fourth), but I could easily add to that if you have any particular wishes. I aim to please.^^
> 
> (also yes, Clint/Coulson cuddle scene _is_ coming. :P )


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness, guys! Hope you still like this. :)
> 
> I don't know when I'll be able to write, let alone post, another installment of this little !verse - but it's probably coming at some point. For now, thank you all so much for commenting and kudos'ing and everything<3
> 
>  
> 
>  **Chapter warnings:** Mention of murder and a little something worse, in the first part - see the end notes if you want to get spoilered. It's brief, but heed the warnings anyway. Also, there are mentions of some additional details concering Phil Coulson's 'death'.

Neither of them deal very well with being woken abruptly. Tony readily admits that he's the least _lethal_ of the three to wake up, but he doesn't _like_ it. It's been an unspoken argument since they started sharing a bed that they don't sneak up on each other; they don't sneak into bed and try not to wake the two others; they don't _sneak_.

So when Clint comes into the room tonight, he isn't silent. He makes the door handle creak, he shuffles his feet on the carpet, he makes a few aborted coughs. Tony blinks his eyes open and feels Steve move sluggishly against him, sitting up. They're both naked and a little sticky from earlier, and Tony's head is sleep-bleary because he knows it can afford to be.

“Clint?” he says, quiet, and doesn't get a response. Fuck. If the op has gone well, or been easy, Clint is usually ready with a flippant remark or two. Sometimes he jumps right onto the bed like a kid and there will be limbs everywhere and Tony will curse, making Clint laugh – high and clear and even _more_ like the kid he never got to be.

Now, the archer doesn't do either. It's hard to see him in the darkness of the bedroom, but Tony hears him pull off his work suit and shoes before stomping into their adjoining bathroom. Still without a word.

“Shit,” Tony says, and Steve sighs before pressing a brief kiss to his shoulder.

They both get out of bed and into the bathroom, since Clint hasn't closed the door. He looks unharmed; there are no band-aids, no bandages, no blood. But he doesn't turn when they enter and his grip on the edge of the sink is white-knuckled.

“Clint,” Steve says now, and they don't move any closer. Like this, they can only approach the archer from behind, and if Clint is in a particularly bad headspace, he could pounce out of sheer instinct.

“Fine,” Clint says even though none of them voiced the question. His voice is bitter, his words clipped. “I'm fine.” He opens the little medical cabinet to his right, but doesn't take anything out – just stares at the bottles of painkillers for a long, hard minute before he closes it again and turns around.

“Hey,” Tony says and their Omega nods absently.

“Yeah.” He drags a hand through his hair, and though it doesn't shake – Clint's hands never shake – it still _feels_ to Tony like he's trembling.

“Can you tell us about it?” Steve asks, and it's a two-fold question; Clint's headspace one thing, confidentiality another.

Clint purses his lips; he rest of his face is already tight with everything he's holding in. Finally he shakes his head, jerkily, before crossing the room. His bare feet hardly make a sound against the tiles and he stops right on front of them, his gaze unfocused and shoulders drawn in tight around him.

“Clint?” Tony tries, this time.

“He was –” Clint cuts off and looks up at Tony. “The mark, he was.” And he doesn't say anything else, doesn't elaborate, but he puts his hands tentatively on his own stomach and Tony notes Steve's minuscule flinch.

“Shit,” Tony says with feeling. When he reaches out and Clint doesn't say or do anything, only watches his hand warily, Tony slides it around the archer's waist and slowly, slowly pulls him in. Clint lets himself be pulled.

“Clusterfuck of a mission,” he says hoarsely, and it sounds like an excuse, but Tony just nods.

“Hey, it's cool. You're home.”

Clint is warm against him, and when the Omega slumps enough that he rests his chin against Tony's shoulder, Tony looks over at Steve. The Captain smiles sadly and steps closer; utters a quiet “Hi, Clint,” just to let their archer know he's coming, and then wraps his arms around both of them.

“ 'S fucking stupid,” Clint grits out. “Not like it's even the first time I've... _fuck_.” He knocks his chin against Tony's collarbone with enough force that it hurts, and Tony watches him entangle his fingers with Steve's.

“Do you think you can sleep?” Steve asks, mouth brushing against Clint's temple.

Clint utters a strangled laugh. “Wouldn't bet on it, Cap.”

“Want to give it a try anyway?”

The Omega sighs. “Why the hell not.”

They don't let go of Clint as they make their way back to the bed; the archer doesn't even seem to notice that his Alphas are in their birthday suits, just crawls in under the covers and lies down, stiff as a pole. Tony and Steve join him on either side, close and safe. Steve's Alpha scent spikes barely, trying to soothe his Omega with the smell of safety, and Clint's muscles relax by a fraction.

“C'mon, Barton,” Tony murmurs and tugs Clint down so his head rests on Tony's chest, right next to the ever-lit arc reactor. When Clint doesn't argue, just curls up against his Alpha's side, Steve arranges himself so he becomes the bigger spoon. Exchanging a look with Tony, Steve grabs the other Alpha's hand and entwines their fingers over Clint's side, creating a small, significant fence between their Omega and the rest of the world.

Clint doesn't sleep for the rest of the night. Neither do his Alphas.

~*~

_Clint has been difficult to find the last few days. Tony doesn't know why; it's only been a week since Steve first joined them for real, as more than a helping hand, but Tony doesn't think that's why the archer is hiding. Or at least he hopes it isn't. He can tell that Steve's worried, though; the super-soldier hasn't said anything, hasn't apologized or asked if they want to stop this new thing they're carving out for themselves, but Tony can tell he wants to._

_It's that, more than anything else, that makes Tony search for the Omega with JARVIS's help. If Clint needs to be alone, that's fair enough, but Tony needs to make sure that he's not pulling away because of Cap._

_When JARVIS tells him that Clint isn't anywhere in the Tower, nor on the recently fixed Helicarrier or in SHIELD HQ, Tony goes to the person (aside from his AI) who's most likely to know where the Omega's holding up._

_Natasha doesn't look impressed at his snooping._

_“It's not an Alpha thing,” Tony says before she can say anything cryptic about that. “If he wants to be alone, that's fine. I just – I don't know why he's hiding away, and it's freaking –”_ Steve _\- “me out. A little.” Tony sighs. “I just need to know that he's okay, that's it.”_

_“He's not,” Natasha says, and Tony's stomach churns._

_“What? Why? Do you know what's wrong?”_

_She gives him a hard look. “The date, Stark.”_

_“The d-” Tony cuts himself off, wracking his brain, and the conclusion is hilariously obvious. “Fuck, of_ course _.” Tomorrow is the day; six months since the Battle of New York. Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you think I should leave him alone?”_

_Natasha stares at him for a long, uncomfortable while. “No,” she finally says._

_“Do you know where I can find him?”_

_Her fingers tighten on her doorway; only by a fraction, but enough that Tony notices. “There is a bar,” she says and gives him the address. Then she slams the door to her apartment shut; Natasha's own way of saying that she, too, is having a less-than-awesome time with the impending anniversary._

_Tony finds Barton in a sleazy, small bar on the outskirts of Brooklyn, a glass of tequila in hand, sitting stiffly in a corner booth so he can see the whole room and every exit. He sees Tony the minute the Alpha steps through, and downs his glass. He doesn't move, though, so Tony sits down across from him._

_“Tasha?” is all he says, and Tony nods. “I wasn't – I'm coming back. Just needed to get out for a while.” He rolls the shot glass between his thumb and index finger._

_“It's cool,” Tony says. “Just freaked Cap out a little, I think.”_

_Clint frowns. “Steve?”_

_Tony nods and gestures at the bartender across the room for a beer. The chance that the guy behind the bar got the right order is probably 50%. “He – we, I guess – thought your going AWOL might've had something to do with the other day.”_

_Clint blinks. “What? No, fuck. No, it's just – I didn't mean to freak you guys out.”_

_Tony shrugs, like he hasn't been trying to find Clint – figure him out – for the last two days. “I'll tell Steve, then.”_

_“I'll tell him myself, once I,” Clint says and falters, before rubbing hard at his eyes. It's less of an on-the-verge-of-tears thing and more of a headache tell. “Just had a lot of nightmares lately, I guess.”_

_Tony frowns. He hasn't noticed. He and Clint spend most nights in the same bed now, but if Clint has been waking up in the middle of the night, Tony hasn't seen it. That's a disconcerting thought, but Tony figures they've all got their nightly demons; he doesn't always want Clint to know what's going on in his subconscious, either._

_The bartender brings Tony a Samuel Adams, impressively enough. Tony drinks without saying anything, content to just sit here in silence until Clint either talks or asks him to leave. Tony's fine with either, really; Clint looks tired and frayed at the edges, but ultimately okay._

_The Omega stares at his empty shot glass, a drop of amber liquid clinging to the bottom of it. “It was my idea,” he says, his voice suddenly scratchy. He doesn't meet Tony's eyes._

_“What idea?” Tony asks. His fingers are wet and slick from the bottle's condensation, and he suppresses the urge to wipe his hand on his black jeans._

_“To take out Coulson.” Clint's fingers tighten on the shot glass, and for one moment, Tony thinks he'll throw it at the wall. Clint lets out a shuddering breath._

_“Fuck,” Tony says and doesn't know what else to say. He didn't know. He supposes Fury does; presumably Clint mentioned it in his debriefing report. But the team... Clint never told the team. Tony wonders how heavy that secret has rested on Clint's shoulders alongside everything else._

_Clint purses his lips. “Loki – he wanted to hit you guys where it hurt. He wanted it to be personal; asked if there was something that bound you together; a, a seam he could split. I told him the easiest target-” and he stops there, voice breaking off like a snapped twig, and gestures at the bartender with shaking hands for another drink._

_“Jesus,” Tony says. That is – yeah. He knows from a logical standpoint that Clint is right; Coulson was always the weakest link, when it came to pure fire-power or field skills. The guy was an excellent agent, but human, and his greatest strength wasn't hand-to-hand combat. He was never equipped to go up against a demi-god. “Clint.”_

_The archer shakes his head._

_“_ Clint _. We all knew that,” Tony says, because it sucks, but it's true. “Coulson better than anybody. You know he wouldn't do anything but follow his own gut instinct.”_

_“I know,” Clint says hoarsely, “that's what Loki was counting on.”_

_Their guy walks over with a bottle of José Cuervo. “Leave the bottle,” Clint says and the bartender just shrugs. Clint immediately knocks back two more shots._

_Tony watches the guy for a minute before he gets up. He slides into the booth next to Clint, close enough that their thighs and sides touch. Clint makes a very quiet, very lonely sound and lets his head rest against Tony's shoulder._

_“To Coulson,” Tony murmurs and raises his Samuel Adams. Clint knocks his shot glass against Tony's bottle._

_“To Phil,” Clint rasps._

_By the time they get home, Clint is drunk enough that Tony has to half-carry him. He asks Steve to sleep over when the archer has passed out in bed, and Steve accepts gratefully. They're both there when Clint awakes later in the night, screaming without making a sound._

~*~

Tony's in his workshop, working on a prototype for a new quiver for Hawkeye, when JARVIS pipes up. “Sir? Agent Barton would like to inform you of a conversation you might be interested in overhearing.” The AI sounds... vaguely amused?

“Actual permission to eaves-drop?” Tony says, more to himself than anyone else. “Alright, pull up the feed, will you?”

“Certainly, sir.”

It shows the living room in Phil's apartment. JARVIS has eyes and ears all over the Tower, but contrary to everyone's beliefs, Tony _does_ actually understand the principle of privacy. So on the Avengers' private floors, JARVIS is on standby unless they talk to him, and the visual feed remains off unless prompted by someone in that particular space. Which means that either Phil or Clint has already given JARVIS the thumbs-up.

Tony leans back in his work chair and catalogues the images in front of him.

Phil is propped up, with a large number of brightly colored throw pillows, on the couch. He's reading a report, leaning over every now and then to cross-reference with a beige folder on the coffee table right by. Clint sits on the other side of the couch, fashioning what looks like an origami crane. It's crudely shaped, like a crane that's taken a beating or two, so it's clear that this isn't the archer's usual hobby. (It would be weird if it was, since Tony's never seen any origami stuff in their apartment.)

Tony can hear the rustling of paper – from both men's activities – which means the audio is on as well. Then Clint clears his throat. “Phil?”

“Mm?” Phil says in that faraway manner people do when they're not really listening. He scribbles something in the margin of a report before putting it away, reaching for a new one. The movement must jostle his scars or something, because he twitches, just barely. Tony knows that if he was there, not just watching this on camera, Phil would never have shown even that hint of weakness.

“I've been thinking,” Clint says.

“Did it hurt?” Phil says easily, the quip immediate and level enough that it sounds like some sort of a code. Like they say this same thing to each other all the time, as a form of normalcy.

Tony's hypothesis is strengthened when Clint relaxes, a small smile settling on his face. “You know, before? When we were... y'know.”

“I do know, yes,” Phil says with a hint of amusement, but he puts down his new report and leans back against his pillows, giving Clint his full attention.

“I know it wasn't – it wasn't ideal,” Clint says haltingly, his smile waning and eyes dropping to his tucked-up feet. “Not for either of us.”

“I was happy to offer you the help, Clint,” Phil says, gentle and sure, like they've had this conversation many times before. “If I considered it an issue, I wouldn't have kept offering.”

“I know,” Clint says quickly, before shifting. “No, I – I know that. And I appreciated it; still do. You were the best Beta I ever had.” He rubs a hand over his eyes in a tired motion, one that makes him seem almost like a kid.

Phil just smiles.

“Anyway, I'm bonded now, so that's – that's taken care of,” Clint says, fumbling, unbearably awkward in a way he never lets himself be unless he knows he's safe. Tony grins from his vantage point in the workshop.

“If you're here to talk about your sex life, Barton, I'd rather you didn't,” Phil says, laughter in his voice.

“No! God, no,” Clint says, finally cracking up too. “I know you're not into that stuff. No, I'm just – what I'm _saying_ , in my unbelievably fucking roundabout way, is that I... I kinda miss the other aspect, Phil.”

Phil stills at that; Tony can see it even on the video. His body doesn't lock up, but it takes on a more straight, deliberate posture than Phil has had up until now. “Could you clarify what you mean by 'the other aspect'?”

Clint huffs. “You _know_. The part that usually came... after. When we...” he gestures vaguely between them.

“Held each other,” Phil says, so quiet the feed barely picks up on it, and Clint grunts an affirmative. “Clint.” It's sudden and sharp, and Clint looks up and at the handler. “Tony and – Steve, they treat you well, don't they?”

Clint grins, full-on and unabashed, before he chuckles. “Oh, yeah. Don't worry about that, Phil; this isn't some cry for help. Steve – well, you probably know the guy better than me, you should know all about the brand of romantic he is. And Tony...” Clint shrugs, his eyes flickering up towards the ceiling for a moment. “Tony's surprisingly fluffy and cute.”

“Fuck off, Barton,” Tony murmurs to himself, a grin tugging at his lips.

“It's not that I'm lacking anything,” Clint continues, looking back at his handler. “It's just that I miss– what we had.” He waits for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Although not so much the dildo parts, because I can live without those now that I've got the real thing times two.”

Phil makes a muffled, slightly choked off noise and buries his head in his hand for a moment. Tony can see his pink neck from this angle. “Thank you for putting it eloquently, Clint.”

“Anything for you, sir,” Clint says with that obnoxious grin of his, before shifting closer on the couch. “I talked to Tony and Steve – hell, Tony's, probably watching us right now, I talked to JARVIS earlier. They're cool with it; they know it's not about sex. It was never about that.”

Phil looks a little overwhelmed at that mini-monologue. “Tony's watching us? _Why_?”

Clint shrugs. “He wanted to see us cuddle. He's kinky like that.”

Tony snorts a laugh by himself while Phil stares dubiously at Clint. Finally, the Beta shakes his head. “What is your actual proposition, Clint?”

“That we hang out sometimes,” Clint says without delay. “And that we're... I dunno, free to be close, or whatever. If you want to. I'm just letting you know that Tony won't repulsor-blast your face, or Steve give you his Disappointed Face, if I come home smelling like you.”

Phil smiles, a mix of exasperation, fondness, and uncertainty all in one. “Are you sure, Clint?”

“Positive, Phil. I've missed that.” Clint rubs his neck, his voice and gaze dropping. “I missed _you_.”

Phil's smile turns sad around the edges, and he curls his hand around Clint's wrist and squeezes. “I accept,” he murmurs, tone warm, and Clint's eyes brighten before he scoots close enough to wrap his limbs around the Beta.

“Clint?” Phil says, looking a little surprised.

“I'm taking advantage of your weakened state so I can be the big spoon,” Clint says and tugs Phil down. They stretch out on the couch, Clint spooned behind Phil, his jaw hooked over Phil's shoulder and his arms curled around the Beta's middle. Phil rests his hands on top of Clint's, and shifts until he lies in a position that doesn't jostle his still-healing chest. They don't say anything for a while; just close their eyes, melting into each other, looking comfortable and familiar and safe. Tony's inner Alpha must be more used to sharing that Tony knew, because it rumbles happily at the display; of seeing a good friend and his Omega happy and calm together.

“Tony?” Phil says to the empty room around them, not even bothering to open his eyes. “If you record this, they will never find your body.” It's only a murmur and Tony laughs to himself.

Clint grins and nuzzles Phil behind the ear. “Oy. That's my Alpha you're threatening, there.”

Phil huffs, smiling, and curls into himself so Clint can wrap more firmly around him. Phil has made it an art to look unassuming, Tony knows, but now he looks genuinely _small_. Not helpless, just... little. Clint's arms are bare and toned, holding the Beta, and Tony's got work to do but he can't bring himself to look away from the feed.

“It's good to have you back, Phil,” Clint whispers, the audio barely picking it up.

“It's good to be back,” Phil murmurs, his voice a soft mumble, and that's the last any of them say for a while.

Tony knows the two guys aren't sleeping, but they look that way; loose-limbed and intertwined on the couch, eyes closed and faces smoothed out. One of Clint's hands move up to splay over Phil's heart, no doubt listening to the Beta's heartbeat. Phil quirks a smile.

“JARVIS?” Tony says.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Ask the Captain to get down here, would you? I think he'll wanna see this.”

“Certainly, Sir,” JARVIS says, and Steve comes into the workshop only minutes later.

“You needed me?” the Alpha asks, looking freshly showered and relaxed like he always does after one of his long jogs.

“I always need you, Cap,” Tony snarks and makes grabby-hands gestures. Steve indulges him; steps into his space and dips down for a kiss, before he turns to the monitor.

“Thought you might like to see our boy snuggle up to your biggest fan,” Tony says and stands up, just so he can slide his arms around Steve's waist from behind.

“They worked it out?” Steve says and sounds relieved, drinking in the display on Tony's monitor. “They look happy,” he murmurs and presses back against Tony's form.

“Yeah, I'm getting cavities just watching,” Tony says and kisses that soft patch behind Steve's ear. It's clear from the way Phil's arm has slid down, and his barely opened mouth, that the handler has fallen asleep. Over the audio, the Alphas can hear Clint humming what sounds like a lullaby, nose still buried in Phil's greying hair.

~*~

_“Are you comfortable?” Steve asks, blond bangs falling into his eyes. His hands are big on Clint's knees, but Tony knows that the grip would be light, not restraining._

_“Just awesome, Cap,” Clint says, a little breathless, and one arm shoots out to wrap around Steve's neck and tug him close. Only super-balance saves Steve from toppling over; instead he adjusts easily and slides home in one, smooth movement._

_Clint makes a quiet, pleased noise as his eyes flutter shut. He's spread out on their bed on his back, legs hooked around Steve's legs and head in Tony's lap. When the Omega tilts his head up, Tony leans down for a deep kiss. He's here because he's part of this, but this show isn't about him. He can smell himself in Clint's scent; can smell Clint in his own tang. After tonight, Steve's scent will begin to change as well._

_When Tony pulls away, Steve is right there; Tony's two partners breathing into each other's mouths as they move languidly. Steve skims his hands everywhere, pressing the inside of his wrists barely against Clint's skin where his aroma is most potent. Soon they're nipping and biting, nuzzling each other's necks as they rut, claiming each other's scents and bodies._

_Steve halts mid-thrust to glance up at Tony, his blue eyes dark with desire and the heady aroma of Clint everywhere. Tony leans forward, Clint's head still in his lap, and Steve surges into an almost desperate kiss. There is a part of Tony – he wants to say it's only his Alpha part, but he suspects it goes deeper than that – that is quietly freaking out right now, watching Steve and Clint initiate their bonding. Polyamorous couples exist, but they're far from the norm, and it's hard – so fucking hard – for Tony not to see this as some form of rejection. As being replaced; as being judged and found not enough. Not enough for Clint, not enough for Steve._

_Tony still can't quite comprehend how fast and hard he's fallen in love with Steve, and he can even less believe that the Captain would feel the same as he does._

_Clint makes a quiet mewling sound and turns his head, nuzzling Tony's thigh with the tip of his nose as he gets pounded. One of his hands are wormed around Steve, clawing red marks down the super-soldier's back that disappear almost immediately. The other hand, though, is by Tony's thigh, opening and closing around nothing. As Tony grabs it and Clint immediately holds on for dear life, Steve changes his position slightly, and Clint arches his back._

_“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles, eyes tightly closed and body taut as Steve seems to hit his prostate on every thrust. Steve bends down and bites Clint's neck hard enough that the Omega groans, in pain but mostly in pleasure. Their scents are mingling and heady in the air, nearly drowning out Tony's smell. Or, not exactly – Tony takes a deep whiff and can still smell himself in Clint's scent, can taste himself when he lifts Clint's hand and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the back of it._

_Then Steve shouts and Clint yelps, his grip on Tony's fingers tightening to the point of pain, and they both shudder through their orgasms. Clint blinks his eyes open to settle them on Tony's, and they are so wonderfully bright and happy and_ I can't believe this is my life _that Tony can only smile helplessly back._

_Steve breathes against Clint's chest for a moment longer, before he pulls off and out, his gaze flickering between the two of them and his cheeks barely pink with exertion. He's not even sweaty, just looks a little flushed, and he presses a kiss to the inside of Clint's thigh as he moves away._

_Tony shifts, so his hard-on won't poke Clint in the head, and the Omega squirms a little. “Mmm, Tony.”_

_“Yeah, boy?” Tony asks softly. Steve settles next to him, sitting up, and the two of them lean into each other's space. Steve smells like sex and Clint and himself, and the kisses he presses to Tony's jaw are light and innocent._

_Clint huffs and doesn't answer, but he does tilt his hips a little and blinks up at Tony with a mellow, blissful – yet somehow impish expression. Tony smooths his hands down Clint's stomach, as far as he can reach, dragging his fingers through the mess on his Omega's belly._

_“You sure?” Tony murmurs. He can feel Steve smile into his shoulder. “I don't want you to get sore.”_

_“Nah, I'm good,” Clint says, voice gravelly, and licks at the inside of Tony's naked knee. “So good.”_

_And Tony could make a dirty joke about sloppy seconds here, but the feel of the room – of the three of them – seems quiet and almost sacred. So he doesn't. He just eases Clint's head down to the mattress and moves around on the bed until he kneels between Clint's spread legs._

_Steve lies down next to their Omega and buries his face in the crook of Clint's shoulder, no doubt smelling himself on Clint's skin. Clint hums quietly, but his eyes stay on Tony's, half-lidded and dark._

_Tony grabs the lube and coats himself liberally. Clint hasn't had time to tighten up yet, but Tony doesn't want him to be dry, since he's still two months from his next heat. It's almost painful to go slow, he's so hard, but the barely-there smile on Clint's face is so fucking worth it. And when Tony bottoms out, leaning down to kiss Clint's forehead and see Steve smile into the archer's skin, something settles within Tony. Just... clicks._

_Clint is Steve's now, and Steve belongs to Clint. But... but Clint is still Tony's. Tony still belongs. And through Clint, Tony has Steve now too._

_Alpha and Omega aside; Steve and Clint are_ Tony's _. And there is no fucking way he's ever letting them go._

~*~THE END~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spoilery warning:** It's heavily implied that on a mission, Clint killed a male Omega who was pregnant.


End file.
